A Story To Be Told
by EnglandBabe1997
Summary: Scars tell stories. Merlin knows that better than most. So does Arthur. Is it time that Arthur finds out some of those stories?
1. Chapter 1

_Scar Reveal_

_Set series four. Post 4.02_

_Disclaimer: IDOM_

Arthur knew stories.

As a Prince, future King, he'd been told stories and legends and then been taught to scoff at them; only believing in the solid facts. He had never really agreed with this – dragons and lake spirits might be legends but magic defied logic. Surely they could have existed at some point which made them as much a part of history as his great-great grandfather's triumph over another kingdom.

And when the dragon had escaped the bowels of the castle – the dragon that not even Arthur had known still existed – it just confirmed his theory. Although Merlin could have had something to do with that.

Merlin.

Merlin had lost people, seen people die (Lancelot was proof of that. Indeed Merlin had been the only one awake), but still looked at the world with a kind of wonder shown by a newcomer to the city. His eyes held a kind of innocence that defied what he had seen throughout his years living in Camelot.

He was a walking contradiction.

Arthur had known him for years and was still no closer to figuring him out. Sometimes it made him curious, other times furious.

And sometimes he couldn't care less. Merlin was a mystery. And it seemed like even Merlin was confused by some of the things he did.

He was the cheeky, insolent and (much as Arthur loathed to admit it) witty manservant. At other times he displayed a wisdom gained by age and experience, one that did not fit the youth and innocence usually in his eyes. Two people lived in Merlin, one a cheerful and happy servant who brought a smile to the harshest hearts, the other a wise old sage trapped in the younger man's body, hiding in the shadows. Arthur sometimes caught a hint of him in Merlin's eyes when the younger man didn't know anyone was watching.

And he was not the only one who had noticed.

oOo

Gwaine was a drunk.

He admitted that – it would be stupid not to.

Over half of the people he'd met in his life had met or caught him in a tavern in some kind of intoxication. That would be a lot of witnesses to the fact that he liked his alcohol.

But that didn't mean he didn't notice things.

He remembered a lot of things that happened whilst he was drunk.

And many people didn't care what they did in front a drunken man – too much faith in the fact that he wasn't likely to remember when he woke up.

It was how he'd lived before.

Blackmail worked like a charm when there was nothing else.

And he'd hated every moment of it.

But that was what was good about Merlin (and bad about him as well). He thought so much of his friends. Even when Gwaine was drunk, Merlin never acted any differently around him, merely kept his eye on him more (the first time Merlin hadn't, and Gwaine had started two tavern brawls and fallen over five times. After that Merlin watched him). It was quite nice really.

But annoying.

Even Gwaine couldn't know Merlin's secret.

Even Gwaine couldn't persuade his friend to let his guard down around him.

The only time Merlin had seemed fully relaxed was when he was alone with Lancelot. He seemed like he felt safer with this Knight. And now he was gone. The look on Merlin's face when he'd told them that Lancelot was gone – a permanent destination where none of them could follow him. Not yet.

Merlin seemed tense – even tenser than usual and now he'd lost Lancelot it seemed that Merlin was not relaxing for anything, he was in a constant state of motion. The rest of the Knights had taken the blow hard (Percival in particular) and Arthur was concerned for Gwen. But Merlin had taken it the hardest.

Gwaine couldn't decide whether it was grief or guilt.

oOo

They had been tracking a sorcerer and his wife through the forest. Arthur, Gwaine and Merlin had become separated from the rest of the Knights – a rare occurrence. It was unknown whether both of the couple possessed magic, but it was safe to assume they both did. Just to be on the safe side.

It turned out that the caution was necessary.

And that civilian reports could be wrong.

They (Gwaine and Arthur – and Merlin, not that he'd intervened) had just killed the husband. 'Strange' Gwaine thought. 'Wasn't he a sorcerer? Why didn't he magic himself out of here?'

That was when his wife had come charging out of the trees, tearful and screaming that her husband hadn't been the sorcerer, that she was. Nice twist, keeps the day interesting. Gwaine didn't like his callous thoughts but the woman had just tried to kill him. His own sword was still swinging violently in the vicinity where his head had been only moments ago. He winced. That would've hurt.

The fight was quite confusing and slightly dramatic. Arthur was hit over the head with his own sword. Gwaine felt sorry for having killed the man; knowing now that he was an innocent trader and not an 'evil' sorcerer (he didn't buy into the whole magic-is-evil thing anyway). Arthur was about two steps away from ordering them to charge at the woman as an 'evil magic-user' (conveniently forgetting that he had just killed her husband and how would he feel if someone had killed Guinevere?)

Merlin just stayed out of the way. He hated killing his kin, even when they tried to kill people he cared about. It wasn't until she almost beheaded Gwaine that he moved into action, creeping slowly forwards. No one noticed him moving. He was invisible (much like always). Just not literally.

And right as she swung her sword down towards Arthur's heart, he jumped in front of the blade. Gwaine quickly dispatched the sorceress, beheading her much like she had attempted to do to him. An alarming amount of blood was streaming from the manservant's chest and soaking through his shirt.

Luckily the wound was not particularly deep and Arthur stripped off Merlin's shirt quickly, bandaging the slice across his chest. Why was his servant so keen to die for him? He looked up at Gwaine, who looked horrified – well, his best friend had just been stabbed.

"Mate, where did you get those?"

Arthur was puzzled but Merlin knew what he was talking about. A look of alarm passed over his face replacing his usual cheeky smile (even after being wounded by a sword).

"You know me," he said hoarsely. "Always tripping over things."

"Mate, half of those would have required you to have tripped off a cliff and into a fire."

Now Arthur was really confused.

He looked quizzically down at Merlin, who was still lying on the floor, and froze. His face was probably a sight to laugh at but the only people there were Merlin and Gwaine; and Merlin looked far too apprehensive and Gwaine looked appalled.

The skin was marred by a mirage of cuts and slices, some more brutal than others – they had had inflicted with the intent to cause pain. There were small cuts all up and down his arms and on his shoulders the speckle of faint scars that matched a mace injury. Arthur's mace injury. He had done that, given those scars, to Merlin. The most grotesque injury Arthur could see was the enormous red burn in the middle of Merlin's chest, still looking angry and raw, as though it had been made moments ago. It must've hurt with every movement he made, every order he carried out, without complaining. How like Merlin.

Why had he not noticed that his manservant's body was more scared than his, than his Knights? What was wrong with Camelot if its servants showed more battle scars that its defenders? Arthur had always thought that Merlin had gotten through their encounters with magical creatures and sorcerers unscathed, he'd joked about it right before the immortal Knights of Idirsholas. So why hadn't he seen this?

He turned Merlin over, just to see the skin on his back, hoping desperately it would be pale and unmarred. His hopes were in vain.

On Merlin's back was another masterpiece made of scars. The small tiny cuts and bruises were there – they were expected from Merlin, who couldn't walk down a flight of stairs without tripping over. What wasn't expected was the long twisting scar about three inches deep and going from the centre of his back to his left hip. The skin was puckered and red and from the looks of it the injury hadn't supposed to have healed at all. Whatever had healed his manservant had not been able to fix the scars.

Gwaine looked even more horrified.

And now Arthur knew why he'd never seen Merlin without his shirt – or even with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up.

The look in Merlin's eyes was no longer alarmed. It was cold, detached. He looked down dispassionately at the artwork that was his own skin, which life had determined he would remember every slight occasion with a mark to the flesh.

Some of the wounds were peculiar though. They looked like they were self-inflicted. But Merlin wouldn't do that to himself – would he?

He'd never seen these on his manservant before.

Could he be hiding other things, other struggles, hiding behind his usual mask of cheeriness and sarcastic comments?

And more than anything, and he could see the same desire echoed in Gwaine's set features, he wanted to know – what had Merlin done to get these scars?

oOo

There had been a tense silence that no one had been willing to break.

Until Merlin pasted another smile to his face and tried to break the aghast quiet. "Well. Shall we return to Camelot?" The merry smile faded at the looks he received from the two Knights.

Arthur was angry. Who had inflicted such injuries upon _his _manservant? He didn't even have time to be alarmed at his own possessive thoughts.

"Where did you get those?" Gwaine repeated, slightly more forcefully.

"Around." Merlin was deliberately being vague. It was infuriating.

Merlin usually was infuriating.

It was one of his 'virtues'.

Annoyingly, Arthur had to listen to it – Merlin _was _his manservant, and occasionally he had something actually wise to say.

Looking at him you never would have believed it.

"_Merlin_," Arthur stressed; a hint of warning in his voice. He was losing patience. He often did when it came to Merlin.

"_Arthur_," Merlin mimicked.

Gwaine interrupted the conversation, hurriedly. These kinds of conversations between Merlin and Arthur were legendary and could go on for days at a time. "I know what you're trying to do, Merlin." The manservant just cocked his head innocently; eyes open far too wide for it to be normal. "You're trying to distract the pair of us from asking about..." He waved a hand down Merlin's scarred body.

This thought startled Arthur for two reasons. One, he'd not thought about it himself. Two, _Gwaine_ was the one who had.

Had he landed in some sort of parallel universe?

Merlin had been injured and Gwaine was thinking logically. Arthur thought he might die of shock.

"I suppose I am. Is it working?" Both Arthur and Gwaine glared at him. "It would seem it isn't. Shame."

"Talk." Arthur spoke through gritted teeth.

Merlin smiled lightly, still attempting to evade the conversation. "You normally complain when I talk. Isn't it supposed to be annoying prattle?"

"_That_ is. What next comes out of your mouth is going to be answering our questions."

The false smile and the effort to seem light-hearted dropped, the mask leaving Merlin's face. Now he seemed defeated and weary and apprehensive. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." Gwaine answered the question, whilst Arthur looked incredulously at his manservant. Had he really just asked that question?

It seemed he had.

Were there no bounds to his stupidity?

And he couldn't even use blood loss as an excuse – it wasn't like he'd lost that much.

It was only a scratch.

It had only just drawn blood.

Arthur had thought that last time – with the Knights of Idirsholas. Looking at his manservant's scarred visage, he knew that he had suffered quite a lot worse than a small sword nick.

What else didn't he know about his servant?

A lot it would seem.

Well, he could start finding things out now.

Gwaine spoke first, "Come on mate, I told you one of _my_ secrets."

For a moment Arthur was intrigued, before realising that this was _Gwaine_, and chances were his tales and secrets were something to do with ale and women. He hoped. He didn't think that he could handle any more of his (friends) having any more secrets. He'd probably die of shock.

Merlin actually looked to be contemplating the idea. The area was quiet and still, the only sound their heavy breathing. Was he hallucinating, or was there fear actually in Merlin's eyes? The silence wavered for several seconds. "This can't get any worse," he muttered quietly, almost inaudibly.

The world set out to prove Merlin wrong.

There was a heavy war cry, breaking the silence. It was bandits this time, not sorcerers or magical beasts. They had intercepted at the inopportune moment as Merlin had looked ready to speak and Gwaine and Arthur were concentrating on Merlin and not their surroundings. Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to reach his sword in time (which, annoyingly and stupidly, was where the evil sorceress had left it). Gwaine was in a similar position.

Then again they were bandits...

Bandits weren't exactly known for their intellect. They'd probably be able to wrestle their swords off them. Or they'd drop them. Bandits seemed to do that a lot (and fall out of trees often).

However it seemed luck was not on their sides. Arthur and Gwaine were simultaneously attacked and subdued. Merlin, seemingly harmless and defenceless in his servant's clothes and open gash, was left alone on the ground. After all, what chance did an unarmed servant have against a group of bandits?

"Who do we have here?" The chief bandit looked all of them over quickly before singling his gaze onto Arthur. "The Prince?"

None of them reacted to his deduction, neither confirming nor denying. The bandit took their silence as confirmation. "How interesting." It seemed this bandit was one of the few to possess a brain. How unfortunate. "I would kidnap you and hold you the ransom but I know that doesn't work. For some reason, you always seem to get out of tight spots. So I suppose I'll have to kill you now!" The bandit sounded excited by this prospect. How coincidental – the one bandit who managed to capture them was insane and didn't have a plan. It was lucky more of them didn't try this particular combination.

Arthur and Gwaine were just preparing to do a last dash for their swords; an idea that could be seen as suicidal but as their captor was about to kill them anyway, it couldn't hurt to try; was Merlin gave a faint sarcastic laugh. Arthur stared at him. This was proof that his servant really was insane.

"I'm so tired."

That was good to know, Arthur thought, but how was this _amazing_ revelation going to help them out of their predicament.

"So very tired." Merlin's eyes looked old and he wore the face of one a hundred years older, a thousand years of pain hidden in his eyes. He was standing slowly. "So tired of hiding. Of being underestimated."

Hiding what? Arthur tried to quash the rising feeling of panic that he couldn't explain.

"I think it's time I stopped."

Merlin looked up slightly from under his fringe.

The bandits all flew backwards.

Merlin's eyes glowed gold.

Arthur very much wanted to believe all of the bandits tripped over something cylindrical. At the same time. He faintly wondered, head swimming, if he was going into shock or if it was just the recent blow to the head. If it was the blow to the head, he could be hallucinating.

"Will I have to make you leave?"

Arthur sincerely hoped not. If both he and Gwaine saw it multiple times, they weren't hallucinating. He disregarded the fact that Merlin's voice sounded almost dangerous, cold and emotionless.

The bandits made no sound, fearing lurking in the depths of their eyes before they turned tail and run. Merlin did not relax. In fact his muscles tensed further as though coiled to spring. Arthur supposed he could understand – a secret sorcerer hiding in a kingdom where they were executed and being discovered by the Prince of said kingdom.

That did not make it any easier.

"What the hell was that?" Arthur could only stutter out the words.

"Magic." Merlin's voice held its usual sarcastic tone but it was only a shadow of his normally cheeky servant.

Gwaine whistled appreciatively. "I could tell."

Arthur sent Merlin a disbelieving look for both the revelation and the comment he'd just made. There was a moment of almost awkward silence for both what Merlin had just said and what had just been revealed. Arthur used these few minutes to frantically rearrange his thoughts into something resembling an order. Magic was evil. Merlin had magic. By his father's logic, Merlin should be evil. But Merlin wasn't evil. Merlin protested at shooting bunnies and deer. He had a smile for everyone and was always willing to lend a hand. Did this mean his father was wrong? Or did it mean that Merlin was a better actor than any of them thought? At the minute he was willing to give Merlin the benefit of the doubt – he had just saved all of their lives.

"And since when have _you_ had magic, Merlin?" Well, he was trying to give Merlin the benefit of the doubt.

It wasn't really working.

"All my life."

Arthur really did stop at this. His father's teachings had all started with the fact that people chose sorcery, chose evil, and so deserved the death that Uther gave them. The idea that some of them were born that way destroyed all of his father's lessons on magic. And if his father was wrong about that, what else was he wrong about?

Sadly it seemed their disappearance hadn't gone unnoticed. In the moment's silence there was a loud call. Arthur cursed before pointing a finger at Merlin. "When we get back to Camelot we're going to have a long talk."

"And I'm going to join in." Gwaine looked uncharacteristically serious.

Merlin gulped.

(Arthur was just glad of the chance to get his head straight.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favourited xx This has been re-posted because I now do have internet access xx I might post some more chapters involving specific scar reveals – review and tell me which one's you would like xx Edited 24/11/12**

It was dark by the time they had gotten back to the castle. Arthur headed straight to the throne room to report to his father and Gwaine followed the rest of the knights after throwing Merlin a slight look.

Merlin ran straight to Gaius. Gaius look one look at Merlin's terror stricken face before sitting down on the nearest wooden stool, his face white.

"What happened?"

"Arthur found out."

Gaius exhaled heavily before repeating himself, this time shakily. "What happened?"

"We were attacked and I was injured. He saw my scars. Then we were attacked again. I couldn't do nothing - we would've all been killed."

"All?"

"Gwaine was there too."

"Even better." The comment was quiet but Merlin couldn't decide whether it was sarcastic.

"Gwaine will keep quiet. I never thought there would be a problem with him."

"What do they know?"

"That I've had magic all my life. That's it. We were interrupted by the Knights then and had to come back to Camelot. Arthur wants to talk."

"I'm not surprised. If you're lucky you might be able to keep your head - Arthur trusts you."

"He probably won't anymore. I have magic. He'll see that as a betrayal, particularly with Morgana around."

"You're not Morgana, Merlin." Gaius' voice was sympathetic but still shaken.

"But I could've been. It would've been so easy. She's the reflection of everything I could've been."

"But you're not."

Merlin attempted to distract Gaius from this particular conversation before they got into an argument. "We can talk about that later. For now let's worry about Arthur."

"Do you want me with you?"

"No." Merlin didn't need to think about the answer.

"I could help."

"If Arthur decides to hand me in to Uther I'm not taking you with me."

"I'll be fine. Anyway, don't think like that. Like I've said, Arthur trusts you."

"That was before he found out. And he hates magic more than anything else."

"But he could never hate you."

The knock on the door interrupted Merlin's retort.

"Come in," Gaius said.

Leon poked his head round the door. "There's been an incident in the Lower Town. They need a physician."

"I'll be there right away."

Leon stood in the doorway for a moment longer, observing both Gaius packing a bag and the almost visible tension in the atmosphere, before departing.  
"It'll be fine." Merlin couldn't be sure which of them Gaius was reassuring. With one last, long glance at Merlin, the physician followed the Knight out of the door.

Merlin sat in the quiet for several minutes, contemplating and silently preparing for the upcoming talk, before also leaving the room - they were much more likely to be overheard in the physicians chambers; where anyone could come bursting in seeking medical help.

When he reached Arthur's chambers he - for once - knocked. After a soft "Come in," he opened the door. Arthur sat slumped in his armchair, a puzzled frown on his face. Merlin stood nervously, on the balls of his feet, before wandering towards the window; refusing to look at him. Seconds later there was another knock on the door before it opened, despite Arthur's lack of reply. Gwaine strode in, his normally cocky attitude dimmed by the topic and implications of the forthcoming conversation. "I saw you come in."

Normally, this would've provoked a comment from either Merlin or Arthur - most likely the former - about stalking. Today there was no such chance.  
"Take a seat," Arthur said, gesturing at one of the two free chairs in the room. Gwaine did so, still looking uncomfortable; a look which didn't suit the usually confident Knight. Merlin left his chair empty and continued to stand by the window.

"Now -"

Arthur was cut off by Merlin. He looked hesitant and nervous - not a far cry from how he had looked earlier. "I know we're in your chambers, but there's still a chance we can be overheard. Do you mind if I..." Merlin trailed off awkwardly.

Arthur knew what Merlin was trying to say. If he allowed this, this single action of trust, it implied everything to the manservant. The idea of protection. And he didn't know if he could trust Merlin - not yet. He hated himself for thinking of Merlin this way (not Merlin, a sorcerer, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Uther whispered in the back of his head), but he'd been betrayed by magic before. People he'd cared about had been corrupted. How did he know that the Merlin he knew was more than a mask? He didn't. But for now - for this moment - he would trust the mask. If he saw this now, if he allowed this, he knew he wasn't just hallucinating earlier. Everything would change and nothing would be the same again. He needed to see this.

"Yes." The word was weighted, and even though Arthur hadn't specified, Merlin and Gwaine alike knew that Arthur wasn't protesting to the use of magic.  
Merlin took a deep breath. The room was silent. They were each holding their breaths, eyes fixed on Merlin's tense form.

His eyes glowed gold.

A soft silvery sheen of smoke wafted from the middle of nowhere, drifting outwards, sinking in the floor and walls. That was Arthur's proof. He hadn't been hallucinating earlier - Merlin had magic, powerful magic, and he'd been hiding it. In Camelot. Arthur knew logically why he had to did it but the idea of his friend - his best friend (not that he'd ever admit it) - keeping a secret of this magnitude from him shot knives into his chest.

His only comfort was that Gwaine hadn't appeared to have known either - it wasn't just him that Merlin had been hiding from. He took a calming breath.

"Who else knew about this?" He said, gesturing at the room.

"My mother, Will, my father, Freya..."

Arthur didn't know who half of them were - but he could ask later.

"Did Gaius?"

Merlin refused to meet his eyes.

Arthur scoffed. "I can't believe this! Gaius, my father's first in the fight against magic, concealing a sorcerer."

Merlin couldn't help it.

"Gaius helps in your fathers struggle against_ evil_ magic, Sire."

Not long ago Arthur would've retorted that all magic was evil. But now he wasn't so sure. Merlin wasn't evil. At least he didn't think he was. And it was very evident that Merlin was magic.

He didn't know what to think. Everything he'd been taught was being turned upside down.

So far, Gwaine had been uncharacteristically silent but upon seeing Arthur's obvious internal conflict he interceded. "Anyone else?"

Merlin looked hesitant before answering sadly. "Lancelot."

Gwaine just nodded, his suspicions confirmed, but Arthur couldn't believe it - why did Lancelot know? Why Lancelot?

"When did he find out?"

"The griffin incident."

"So he knew the whole time?"

"Yeah." Merlin seemed resigned. Arthur couldn't believe it - another reason to resent a dead man.

"How did he find out?"

"He saw me helping him kill the griffin."

"You killed the griffin? Lancelot did that."

"He did. I just did some background stuff."

"That's why he left, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Gwaine caught on fast. "You thought he'd killed the griffin, didn't you?" The question was directed at Arthur.

"Yes."

"But he didn't want to take the glory - so he left."

Merlin nodded.

Gwaine had a sudden thought. "Does Morgana know?"

"No, not in a million years."

"Why didn't you tell her - you knew she had magic. You could've helped her!"

"No I couldn't."

"Yes you could! She only became this because she didn't have anyone else. She was scared."

"I couldn't have told her. She was destined to become this. The evil was in her heart not her magic. The loneliness might not've helped but even if I had told her she would have become your mortal enemy. And that time she would have blackmail against me."

Arthur took this speech with the air of someone hearing something they just realised was true but desperately didn't want to be. "How do you know it was her destiny?"

"Several things. Prophecies, visions, the dragon."

Arthur decided to come back to the first two comments later. "The dragon. Would that be the Great Dragon, by any chance?"

Merlin nodded.

"The Great Dragon that is _very_ dead."

Merlin swivelled his gaze out of the window, shifting nervously on his feet. "Kind of."

"And how, Merlin, can the Great Dragon be 'kind of' very dead."

"It's not attacking Camelot anymore."

"And is it attacking anywhere else?"

"No."

"And how is it that a dragon that killed a hundred or so people suddenly went from attacking a city and attempting to raze it to the ground, vanishing off the map?"

Merlin completely ignored the question. "She's worse than Nimueh, I'll give her that."

"She?" Arthur was lost by the seemingly random topic change but Merlin just looked at him like he was the idiot.

"Morgana."

Gwaine sounded impressed. "You fought Nimueh?"

Merlin bobbed his head.

"Did you beat her?"

Merlin raised a brow. "And if I didn't, do you think I'd be here with you now?"

Gwaine cocked his head. "She was powerful, wasn't she? She was a High Priestess."

Was? Arthur was again lost words for a moment. "Wait a minute, how do you know that?"

"I haven't always lived in Camelot you know. Plenty of other kingdoms allow magic - so long as it's used for good. Sometimes it's only as long as it's used for the good of the King."

Only a few hours ago Arthur would've said there wasn't any way that magic could be used for good. But he knew Merlin - didn't he? Not everything in the last five years could've been a lie. Some of it had to be real.

"Magic isn't meant to be used like that," Merlin said sadly. "It's meant to help, to protect."

Arthur's tone was vicious to hide the hurt. "Is that what you do then? Protect? Help?"

Merlin nodded.

"And where exactly have you helped?" He was just being obnoxious now - and even Gwaine could see it. Things, odd things, random moments, faint memories, impromptu speeches started to make sense. And he wasn't entirely sure he liked what he could see.

"Just little things. Like bandits and some magical creatures and-"

"Immortal armies?"

"Yes, and maybe the occasional immortal army."

"Oh, I didn't realise we had them that often."

"We don't. They don't normally get that far."

"And I suppose you are the one who keeps them from getting that far."

"I suppose..."

Arthur let loose with a burst of hysterical laughter. "Of course it is."

Well, a hysterical Arthur was better than an angry one, wasn't it?

"So all of them, all of the victories we," Gwaine gestured at himself and Arthur, "take credit for, have actually been you Merlin?"

"Not all of them."

"The immortal army."

"That was me."

"The melee."

"I might've helped out a bit."

Arthur caught on to what Gwaine was doing. "The questing beast?"

"Uh-hm."

"Lady Helen?"

"You remember that?"

Arthur took this as a yes before returning the conversation to what he considered the most pressing topic - that Merlin was avoiding. "The dragon."

Merlin immediately averted his eyes and faced the window again. "Next."

"Merlin. What happened with the dragon?"

Gwaine interjected, "I'd heard that Arthur killed it."

Arthur nodded, still glaring at the back of Merlin's head. "That's what I heard too."

There was a moment's pause before Merlin hesitantly spoke.

"He might not actually be dead."

"Merlin!" He'd mostly gotten over the shock of Merlin's magic by now, but this on top of that was pushing him a bit too far - despite Merlin heavily hinting that only a few minutes ago.

"But on the upside he's no longer attacking Camelot. Is he?"

The dragon was a he? Arthur decided to ask about that later. "And why would that be?"

Merlin was quiet again. Gwaine, who was in a better position to see Merlin's face, was shocked to see a single tear trail down the younger man's cheek.

"I thought only a dragonlord could stop a dragon. And Balinor was the last dragonlord before he died,_ wasn't he_?"

"He was."

"So what happened?"

Gwaine took one look at Merlin's desolate face before humming in realisation. "The power of a dragonlord is passed from father to son. In death."

Merlin sobbed.

Arthur had a look of dawning comprehension on his face that in many other circumstances Merlin and Gwaine alike would've mocked. "He was your father?"

Gwaine shot him a look for actually asking that question whilst Merlin was moments away from tears. "So you sent the dragon away and..."

"And?" The word was quiet.

"And, anything else interesting happen?"

"Too many to count. I keep on having to save this prat's life from all of the magic users that decide to get back at Uther by using Arthur." He gave a small laugh - a very small one. "Do evil sorcerers have no better ideas?"

Arthur scoffed indignantly. "You, saving my life? I'm sure I've saved yours more than you've saved mine."

Gwaine looked at him incredulously. "We are both speaking about you, right? Not some other Arthur with a magical bodyguard?"

Merlin, who looked relieved by the change in conversation topic, interjected, "Arthur, if I wanted to write about every time I saved your life, I would be writing a novel. One of those thick heavy ones from the library that you hate to read but have to as Prince." Arthur looked horrified at any part of his life being compared to the novels he detested so much.

Gwaine, however, looked intrigued. "A novel, you say?"

Merlin gave a nod.

"And how interesting would this novel be?"

A grin spread slowly over the manservant's face. "The most interesting one you've ever read."

Gwaine looked interested but unsurprised. "I look forward to reading it."

Arthur joined in now, "Why don't you give us a summary?"

"Lady Helen of Mora, Valiant, the Afanc, the giant spiders, the griffin, Edwin, Sidhe, wraiths (though I suppose that was more Uther), Nimueh and bandits times about twenty. And that was my first year."

Arthur was speechless. He couldn't even remember half of these things.

"And there were a few other things I helped out with; Gwen's father and Tauren e.t.c."

Gwaine chuckled slightly, "Arthur, close your mouth."

He hadn't even realised he was gaping.

"I can explain later, should I continue?" He waited and then continued despite the lack of response. "Sigan, trolls, love spells, yourself, Morgause, the sleeping spell, 'Garrah and, once again, bandits. I think there were a couple of mercenaries that year as well." He thought back. "Yes, when Gwen got kidnapped, remember?"

The fish impression returned.

"The year Morgana... was gone, wasn't bad. Couple of bandits and magical creatures but not that many sorcerers. The year after it was saving your father from Morgana, you from Morgana and Camelot from Morgana and usually any combinations of the above. There was also goblin's, wyverns, visions of the future, a fire or two," Here he winked at Gwaine, "And another couple of spells. An ageing spell to take the blame for Gwen and get myself arrested. And then Morgana, again. A few more bandits and I didn't really help with the dorocha." He took a deep breath and then looked at his gaping audience. "And that's it. For now..."

"For now? That's it? That's an awful lot of impressive things, mate. A lot of things to hide." Gwaine slung a comforting arm around his friends shoulder. "You seem awfully relaxed about that."

Merlin shrugged, a soft, sad look in his eyes. "What can I do? I've never known any different."

Arthur thought that might be the saddest thing he'd ever heard. Magic had been saving his life. It had been saving his life for the last four or so years. Was magic evil? Arthur didn't think so, not anymore. He suspected another load of stories hidden by Merlin but if half of the ones he'd already recited were true - and as far as Arthur could remember they were - then Arthur already owed the manservant his life several times more than he'd owed the Prince. Some of the stories might be darker, but Merlin was still the same person he'd been that morning. Only now with magic. And that meant all of his mistakes had been made with a pure heart. (But even saying that, it didn't mean Arthur had to like them.)

Maybe one day he'd find out the stories behind Merlin's scars, but he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore.

Merlin was magic.

And magic wasn't evil.

And as long as he remembered those two things they would be just fine.

**The End**

**Thank you for reading xxx**


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